The air is filled with sound.
Far above me, a small plane putters along,
but nearer to me, the jays call insistently back and forth,
the cardinals chirp and peep,
birds uncountable speak in tongues I can’t translate.
Above me, on a branch dripping with the maple’s red buds,
a grackle expresses its displeasure at my presence in squawks and screeches,
though, perhaps, it’s the cat’s presence that he protests rather than my own.
A call I’ve never heard before reaches me among the others.
But so great is the din on this spring morn,
that I can’t isolate it from the rest to memorize its song.
No method to mute all the other sounds and hear just the one song,
as I so often I long to do,
simply let the noise fall away
and hear just the one voice singing.
NOTE: Look for our giveaway of Lynda’s book of poems “Wild Divinity” on April 16th, 2019